


Fell Into Your Skin

by phichithamsters



Series: phichithamsters's twitter fics [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Drabble, M/M, fic from art, originally posted on twitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phichithamsters/pseuds/phichithamsters
Summary: In the hours before dawn, Felix plays with Sylvain's hair and tries not to think too hard.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: phichithamsters's twitter fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027525
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Fell Into Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Mego (@avarice017) drew [this beautiful Sylvix sketch](https://twitter.com/avarice017/status/1261468153407627265?s=20) of Felix playing with Sylvain's hair in bed, and I wanted to write something for it. Originally posted to twitter on 5/16/2020.
> 
> Check out more of her art [here](https://twitter.com/avarice017), and you can find the original tweet [here](https://twitter.com/phichithamsters/status/1261539455183265792?s=20)!

_Sylvain is beautiful when he sleeps._

He’s beautiful like this, with the dim moonlight dancing across their pillows in a soft white haze. Felix feels free, free to say all of the things he holds under his tongue during the daylight, under Sylvain’s watchful eye (it feels like Sylvain is always _looking_ at him). Felix had never felt a need to be vulnerable until he was with Sylvain, and now he _wants_ to be. He wants to pull out all of his stitches and open himself up, let it all come spilling out. He doesn’t care if Sylvain sees the mess inside. 

Felix wants to show Sylvain everything, but old habits die hard.

Just like how Felix had never been able to fall asleep, whereas Sylvain was snoring by the time his head hit the pillow. When they had sleepovers as children, the bed large enough to engulf them whole, Sylvain would talk to keep himself awake because he didn’t want Felix to be alone at night. Sooner or later, however, Sylvain would fall asleep, flat on his back and starfished out across the bed. Felix would try poking him awake, but Sylvain slept like a log. And so Felix would lie on his back next to him, listening to the sound of Sylvain’s soft snores, and he would count the cracks in the ceiling.

Felix’s hand hovers over Sylvain’s hair, auburn locks muted by moonlight. How easy it would be to tangle his fingers into it— not to try to hold on or find something— but to simply leave them there, maybe marvel in the feeling. Felix’s fingers dance along a strand and Sylvain hums but he doesn’t stir. Felix slips his fingers into Sylvain’s hair, right above his left ear. He’s never done this before, but it seems like the time that Sylvain’s spent playing with his hair has imprinted onto him, because Felix’s fingers move on their own. They tentatively weave their way through the quiet curtain of hair, and Felix wonders why he’s never done this before.

Sylvain’s a mystery to him, mostly because of how vulnerable he is. Sylvain doesn’t love quietly— he never has. He was the first one to cry, breaking down in front of Felix the first time they had sex. He tells Felix when he’s hurt, or annoyed, or upset. He shows his love in kisses pressed down Felix’s jaw, leaves it in notes on Felix’s desk when he has to slip away before the sun breaks. 

Felix wants to love Sylvain in the way he deserves, but he _can’t._ When he tries to tell Sylvain how he feels, the words come up short. He wants to hold Sylvain’s hand under the table but his reach falters before their fingers intertwine, and he shoves his hand back into his pockets before Sylvain can notice. Felix wants to show Sylvain he loves him, but he doesn’t know how.

So instead, there’s this: a whispered confession, a brush of skin on skin, and Felix’s hand, weaving its way through Sylvain’s hair, holding more than he could ever say out loud.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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